


What I know now.

by Prawnperson



Series: Alternate universes [6]
Category: Don’t Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Cats, Contemplation, So is death, Some internalised homophobia, This is a cathartic fic, Wilson is mentioned like once, because I really like this dude and I’m sad right now, because he’s from the 20s, because it’s Don’t Starve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: That’s one anxious man.





	What I know now.

Walking is nice.

The thing is, Warly likes walking. It’s always been one of the things to help calm him down, and walking on the constant is no different, even if he does always have to have his wits about him. 

It’s autumn at the minute. The quietest of all of the seasons, and one of Warly’s least favourite for the soul reason of how calm it is. It’s the stillness of the days and the absence of bigger things to worry about that opens the door wide to much more personal anxieties. 

The fact that his mother has almost definitely passed away at this point is probably the most major of them all. He doesn’t know why he’s here, but he does know that he’s abandoned his mother, and it hurts to think about. Actively, painfully hurts. That why he doesn’t want to think about it, because he can just barely deal with the panic of other concerns, but not grief.

He’s died before, twice accidentally, once on purpose. He only hopes it’s more peaceful for his mother.

The second most prominent worry is on the matter of, well, sexuality. He’s never been in a romantic relationship before, and never really thought about it, which would be fine, except any form of fantasies about said relationships never seem to be with women. It’s...wrong. He knows it is. Men like women, and visa versa, that’s simply the way of it.

What is it Wilson’s always saying?  
There’s always an exception to prove a rule. He supposes he is the exception on this matter.

The other worries are all about more trivial things. Starving to death, dying here and somehow never escaping, somebody finding out about his ‘crush’. Things that don’t seem quite as daunting as the others.

There’s a catcoon scratching at the bark of a tree, so Warly sits down on a dry stump and watches it. He certainly doesn’t expect it to stop its scratching and brush against his leg. He tentatively reaches down to stroke it, and it feels wonderfully soft, like silk. Cats in the real world were never his favourite, and the constant equivalent were no friendlier, but he likes this one. It licks at his wrist, and he feels a marginal amount of his worry settle.

It’s getting dark. He should start heading back to camp. He kneels down to the catcoon, and strokes it behind the ears, causing it to shut its eyes and purr with a rattling noise. Warly laughs at it, silly as it is. Such a funny little creature. 

He lets the feline-like animal leave as he turns to head back to the base, the gnawing guilt and anxiety in the pit of his stomach slightly less noticeable than before.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware this isn’t really an au but I based it off of both the beetlejuice musical and Nightmare before Christmas so I’m putting it in here anyways.


End file.
